No One Is Safe: 175th Hunger Games SYOT
by gamemaker175
Summary: 24 of Panem's best will be reaped, proving even the richest and highest ranked aren't safe. For this year's games, only the children of mayors, high ranked officials, wealthy businessmen/women, and Peacekeepers will be reaped. And to top that off, what could be more fun then a crumbling arena and mutts at every corner? SYOT Closed!
1. Prologue Part 1

**Prologue:**

The pitter patter of light, quick footsteps could be heard as the girl rushed up the stairs. Dark, raven and purple colored curls bounded after its owner as she zipped to the top of the building.

"Father! I got here as soon as I got your message. What's wron-" the girl stopped mid sentence as she headed into the room, "What are you doing here Mr. Lacer?"

The man looked up at her with a stony faced expression, "President Crate is dead. It was an attack coordinated by the mayors of districts 10 and 11."

"W-w-what do you mean, my father is dead? T-t-that can't be possible…" the girl trailed off as she took a seat on one of the golden chairs seated in the office. Her voice was laced with denial and anger.

The man didn't say a word to the girl as light tears slid down her cheeks, but rather turned to his assistant and said, "Radler, It seems the rich have become too comfortable in their positions in society. I think it's time we show them even they aren't safe from us. Do you not agree?"

The young assistant trembled, "But Mr. Lacer, sir. How are we to do that? We no longer have a President. We aren't prepared for anything. We cannot fight back."

"Myra, get up. Hand me that paper," the man growled, in rather unsympathetic voice. In response, the girl quickly wiped away the few tears left on her face and handed him the paper lying next to her.

"Here you go, Mr. Lacer," she managed out, silent tears sliding down her cheeks again.

"Thank you…" he muttered gravely as he scribbled a quick note on to the crisp paper. He grabbed a gold envelope sitting on the desk, and sealed the paper inside. Handing the letter to the girl he lowered his voice, "Myra, when are the next Hunger Games set?"

"Not for about a month…" she replied.

"And plans for the games?" he asked, as the girl clutched the letter tightly in her perfectly manicured hands.

"The volcano and blizzard idea...the one we shot down for the 174th games," she replied, "But what does any of this have to do with the games?"

He nodded, remembering the incident. Deciding last year's arena had turned into quite the debate, "This year's Head Gamemaker is Patrick Ablenson, correct?"

She nodded, "Yes, but please Mr. Lacer, what are you doing? What are you thinking?"

"Radler, I want Patrick Ablenson dead by tomorrow morning. Myra, congratulations, you are this year's Head Gamemaker," he replied.

"Head Gamemaker? Patrick killed? Mr. Lacer, please explain this to me," she pleaded.

"Myra Crate, since I know you well, I know you are already plotting revenge for your father…" he began, "...and I'm giving you the opportunity for that revenge. I want you using that anger productively, we need to control Panem, understand me?"

Her eyebrows scrunched together in confusion as she tried to contemplate what was happening. Taking her silence as an understanding, he began walking out of the room, "Come Radler, we have a ex-Head Gamemaker to execute. And Myra, it's _President_ Lacer to you."

Sitting down again, now by herself in her father's office, she opened the envelope. Scribbled on it was a messy note:

_175th Hunger Games_

_Quarter Quell Twist: The children of Panem's mayors, high ranked officials, wealthy businessmen/women, and Peacekeepers will be reaped._

_Arena: Be smart. Get rid of anything related the old arena. The 175th Games are your revenge._

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><p><strong>AN: Hi! Butterfly here :) So If you haven't already noticed, this is an SYOT for the 175th Games. These games will be a collab between david12341 and I (butterflygirly99). All info for submitting is on our profile and the due date for all entries is 2 weeks from now (January 9th, 2015). Please submit all entries through PM and be sure to leave a review on what you think of the prologue! **


	2. Prologue Part 2

**Prologue Part 2:**

"Myra! Myra! I just heard about Patrick Ablenson!"

"Hey, Shyreen...Yeah, I heard he passed away in an accident. Shame...he was so young," the purple haired girl replied, sounding almost monotone in her response. It had only been a few days since her father death, but all her tears were long gone and she had been focusing her attention on more _pressing_ matters.

"It's so awful. First your fathe- I mean President Crate and now Patrick...some people think the two deaths are connected somehow," Shyreen explained. Lowering her voice she whispered, "Some even think Lacer's behind both the murders."

"Lacer? Behind both murders?" Myra repeated in a sort of sarcastic manner. Although she was fully aware that Nero Lacer was far from innocent when it came to one of the murders, but she doubted her could be behind both.

He was her father's closest adviser, although she couldn't shake the idea that Lacer could have some involvement with her father's murder. It would make sense, her father's death would steer a clear path for Lacer to take power, and arranging the games to control the powerful people within the districts would only further cement his power as president. Pushing away her creeping suspicions, she cleared her thoughts shook her head, "It's not possible. _President_ Lacer only means well."

"You're probably right...what can I say? It's probably just more Capitol gossip," Shyreen replied, "So, are you busy on Quell announcement night? Lucia, Priscilla, and Apollo are all coming over to my place to watch. Apollo even said he'd bring some of his friends."

"Sorry, busy," Myra replied, considering she'd be the one announcing the Quell as well as revealing her status as Head Gamemaker, she wasn't exactly available that night.

"Oh come on, what could you possibly being doing on announcement night? If you're trying to avoid Apollo, he broke up with you months ago, get over it," Shyreen replied, frustrated.

"Don't worry, you'll see soon enough..." Myra replied, already walking away, "And for the record, I broke up with him!"

"What the hell is that supposed to mean?" Shyreen called back at her.

Myra turned around one last time and winked, "You'll see."

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><p><strong><em>3 Weeks Later...<em>**

"I still can't believe Myra ditched us," Shyreen complained as she slipped into the kitchen to fetch some more Capitolite cake.

Priscilla sighed, "Come on, Shy, be a little sympathetic, her father's gone, the last thing she probably wants to be doing right now is partying."

"Well, she seemed fine when I last talked to her..." Lucia replied.

Spreading out on the couch, Apollo grinned, "Poor girl, she's probably still broken hearted after I broke up with her."

"I thought she broke up with you, Mr. Far-to-Full-of-Himself..." Shyreen called from the kitchen, "What did that poor girl ever see in you?"

Apollo shrugged, "Okayyyy, so maybe it was mutual...and as for what she saw in me, good looks and brains for starters. The list goes on and on."

"Uh huh, you keep telling yourself that Mr. Sunshine," Shyreen chuckled as she walked back into the living room with two rather large helpings of chocolate cake in her hands. Handing one of the plates to Lucia who was sprawled out on the floor, she was about to take a seat when the TV flipped on.

"Oh good, its finally starting!" Priscilla exclaimed excitedly, "I wonder who they picked as a replacement Head Gamemaker. My money's on Roman Worland."

A figure finally appeared on the screen, "Hello citizen of Panem, I am your Head Gamemaker, Myra Crate."

The plate that Shyreen was holding dropped and shattered on the ground.

"You know, it seems she actually had plans for announcement night," Lucia muttered, under her breath, "And Pris, you might wanna save that money."

"No kidding..." Priscilla replied, her expression mirroring the shock on everyone else's faces.

"Huh, so maybe she's not too devastated about the break up..." Apollo muttered to himself.

"No kidding..." Priscilla repeated, "I think we need to find Myra a new hobby."

"No kidding..." Apollo replied, "No kidding..."

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><p><strong>AN: So it's Butterfly again with a Part 2 to the prologue! Hopefully you got a little taste of our Head Gamemaker's more personal life as well as a little humor in contrast to the previous chapter. Some more reviews and entries would be much appreciated, but thank you to anyone who's submitted so far. **


	3. Prologue Part 3

The screen was black, the soft sound of cheers in the background, slowly getting louder and louder until the camera faded into the president standing behind a podium at the presidential palace, a large crowd of Capitolites all screaming in excitement below.

President Lacer gave a quick nod to the audience, and with a solemn look, stepped up to the microphone, and began the short Quarter Quell speech.

"Hello, and welcome to the reading of the card for the 7th Quarter Quell!" The crowd's screams managed to get even louder, now at an ear-piercing volume. President Lacer paused for a second, then when it was quiet enough to be heard, began again. "For the first Quarter Quell, the tributes were voted in by the districts, for the second Quell double the amount of tributes went into the games. For the third Quell no tributes were killed, for the fourth all 3 quells were combined, for the fifth Quell the tributes reaped were aged 9-15, and for the sixth Quell, the tribute reaped chose their district partner."

The audience let out a deafening roar, and a young boy came out holding the box holding the quell twists. President Lacer nodded to the boy, plucked the golden envelope with the number 175 printed on it in bold letters, and the boy quickly walked out of sight.

Silence spread across the whole nation as the president slowly unfolded the card. With the small slip of paper now in his hands, Lacer let out a cough, and with a slight smile spread on his face, read the twist.

"For the 7th Quarter Quell, to remind the districts that even the most powerful are not free from the Capitol's grasp, only the children of mayors, high ranked officials, wealthy business men and women, peacekeepers, and victors will be reaped."

The Capitolites paused for a second to take it in, then went crazy, shouting out and cheering in approval. President Lacer let out a small chuckle, and set the envelope down onto the podium.

"Happy Hunger Games, and may the odds be ever in your favor!"

With those words, he turned away, and walked back into the palace, the whole of Panem either weeping in fear, or cheering in relief.

**_Hunger Games Panel  
><em>**

A tall man with slicked black hair and a neon blue suit appears in front of the screen, smiling widely and waving to the audience. "Welcome everyone, to a special edition of the Hunger Games Panel!" A roar goes up from the crowd, and he lets out a laugh. "My name Is Cinnabar Thylos, and I will be your host as we take our first look at this years games. And this year is a special year, as we have the 175th Quarter Quell!"

The camera switches over to a shot of the president reading the quell. After he reads it, it cuts back to the room, which now has Cinnabar standing on the stage, with 3 podiums behind him, each with a person to them.

"Now would be a good time to introduce you to this years panel!" He steps aside and points to the podiums. "First up we have Hunger Games expert Acestes, then we have ex-Gamemaker Gyro! And finally, returning from last year we have Hunger Games journalist Frey!"

He walks back to the edge of the stage and faces the three of them. "So, for this years quell, only the most well to do will be reaped. We'll just start it off with what your general thoughts are. Acestes?"

He smiles back and shrugs. "I don't know, I like the idea behind it, but feel like it won't affect the actual games, sort of like the first quell."

Gyro shakes his head. "No, no, you've got it all wrong. It most definitely will affect the games, just not as much as some quells. I'd put it on level with the 6th quell, with tributes picking their partners."

Cinnabar nods. "And your thoughts Frey?"

"Well, I feel like I do agree with Gyro that it will affect it, albeit slightly. The tributes will definitely be more healthy, but also less fit since most of them have never done physical labor before most likely. I expect the careers to decimate the competition this year."

"That's a good point." Cinnabar says, slightly nodding. "On that same pattern, from just the quell standpoint, ignoring the actual games, how do you rate this years quell? Gyro?" He says, signalling to him to go ahead.

"Well, the 1st seemed awesome at first, the 4th, 5th and 6th are also probably ahead, so I guess 5th."

"Interesting, we'll have to see if that holds true or not." Cinnabar comments. "One last question here, what is your favorite quell?"

Acestes lets out a chuckle. "Well, ignoring the 4th because that's not even fair, I'd have to go for the 3rd. All of the other games just changed it slightly, adding more tributes, changing their age. But no tributes dying completely changed the way the games were played, it wasn't even the Hunger Games really."

Gyro snorts. "Yes, exactly, it wasn't even the Hunger Games, it was a completely different thing, and I personally didn't enjoy it. I would have to say that the best games is the 50th, simply because it was such an amazing underdog story for a district 12 kid to win against a group of 12 potential careers."

Frey gives a small laugh. "I think that I have to go with the 150th, with the kid reaped picking his partner. It added such a tension to the games, there were pretty much no alliances, it was a complete free for all."

A buzzer beeps in the background, and Cinnabar lets out a hearty laugh. "Thank you all for watching, and make sure to tune in for our next show where we break down the tributes that have been reaped, until then, my name is Cinnabar Thylos, and you're watching Hunger Games Panel!"

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><p><strong>Hey, david12341 here. This is just a bit of a filler to remind you all that submission ends on the 9th, so make sure to submit away! Also, as a bit of background on why the games are still around, basically what happened was Peeta died, leaving Katniss as the sole victor, and then the 3rd quell decimated any rebellious feelings(if you're interested in that twist, I'll be making a story about it on my profile soon, so check that out if you're interested).<strong>

**We have an updated list on our profile of what tributes have been submitted, and we'll have the final list by the 10th, so see you then!**


	4. Reapings (D1 and D12)

**Hey everyone, david12341 here. Before we get into the first chapter, just want to give you an idea of the pre-games layout. There'll be 6 reaping chapters, with 2 POV's in each. Every district has 1 tribute get a reaping POV. Secondly, b****utterfly and I will each be writing 1 POV each. So anyways, here's the first reaping!**

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><p><strong>Isla Boccaria, 18, District 1<strong>

_**-butterflygirly99**_

"Hey, Dr. Gold," I called out as a man in a stark white lab coat walked by, "Have you seen my mother?"

"Good morning Isla, I believe you're mother is in room 331," he replied with a bright smile.

I nodded in response as I walked through the local hospital looking for my mother. Everything in district one was large, including the hospitals, making the journey to find my mother quite difficult. Tomorrow I was volunteering and I wanted to see her one last time before I left.

Peering into room 331, I finally caught sight of my mother who was currently cleaning some used syringes. The dark circles under her eyes told me she was on the night shift. Before I could say anything, my mother noticed me, and the smile that broke out on her face made ditching the training center completely worth it, "What are you doing here Isla? Donita actually set you free from the training center?"

"What she doesn't know won't hurt her..." I replied, "Besides if she finds out, worst that'll happen is that I won't get any dinner."

Besides being my trainer as well as one of the wealthiest people in all of district 2, Donita Boccaria was my step mother. With that in mind, my father couldn't have chosen two more different women to marry. While I lived with my dad and my step mother, I often made visits to my real mother, mostly because I missed living without her, or sometimes just to spite my step mother.

Donita never had a problem with my mother and the two got along fairly well, considering my father had been with them both, however Donita hated whenever I skipped out on training. If I missed even a few hours of training, it was off to bed with no dinner. Unfortunately, my father agreed with her methods, after all, they were quite effective, but, needless to say, I became tough as nails both mentally and physically. It took a lot to jar me.

"So are you still with that boy you were telling me about the other day?" my mother asked, quite nonchalantly.

I scoffed, "Who? Jett Silver? He's just an occasional fling."

My mother chuckled, "I'm sure Donita loved that."

"Actually, Jett is 'Donita-Approved', you know being a victor and all..."

My mother just shook her head, and gave me a sad smile, "You're still volunteering aren't you? You don't have to. You still have a chance to back out...if you don't volunteer, you'll still have a home with me..."

Although sweet and kind for the most part, my mother was never one to beat around the bush. She preferred to just get straight to the point, a trait I clearly inherited from her. I've always had a rather sharp tongue with has gotten me in to plenty of trouble, but had also helped me out of it on a number of occasions.

"Donita's not forcing me to do this...I want to do this. Mom, I'm smart, capable, _resourceful_...I can win," I simply replied, "Plus, think of how proud Dad and Donita will finally be...all their training will have finally paid off after I win."

"I know you can win, but sweetie, I have seen death. I don't see it often, but I've seen it, and if there's one thing I've learned as a doctor, it's that death changes people, once you go into that arena, you're never coming out no matter if you win or not," my mother responded, handing me a sponge to clean the needles and be productive.

"I've never had a choice mom, this is who I am. This is how I've lived. There's no more chances for me. Once this is over, there's no more opportunities for me to win," I explained as I scrubbed down the needles.

"Isla, you _always_ have a choice," she said, looking to me, "Always."

* * *

><p>"ISLA BOCCARIA! IT IS 5:30 AM! PLEASE INFORM ME AS TO WHY YOU ARE STILL ASLEEP!" I heard Donita yell from downstairs.<p>

Rubbing my eyes, I turned to my clock which read: 5:22 AM, pushing the covers off my body I rose from my bed. I was used to little hours of sleep, despite the fact it was Reaping Day, Donita insisted I head to the training center to get in some extra practice. I wasn't against it completely. Any edge (no matter the size) against of the tributes could be the difference between life and death.

I trusted Donita, and while she may not be the most maternal mother out their, she had good judgement and was highly aware of how the games worked. She was cruel and strict, but she did what was necessary to keep me alive in the arena.

Despite this, my mother's words from last night continued to echo in my head, over and over, _"Isla, you always have a choice..."_

I did have a choice, but my choice was to volunteer and win, Quarter Quell twist or not. After a brief shower, I brushed my teeth and got dressed, before leaving the house to head to the training center, I slipped on my favorite white leather jacket on top of my black tank top and grabbed one of my only skirts so I could change out of my pants before I let the training center.

Donita constantly reminded me I always had to make myself look presentable from the moment I volunteered to the the moment I won the games. I wasn't sure how I could look 'presentable' in the arena, but I wouldn't have to worry about that for a while. Donita also complained that I wore far too much black, white, and grey clothing, however my mother once told me that those colors complimented my dark red hair quite well, enough said.

Upon entering the arena, I noticed my step brother Jasper training some of the younger students while Donita was in the process of firing one of our trainers. Stopping her rather loud 'lecture' midway upon noticing me, Donita turned to me, "What do you think you're doing, Miss Isla? Stop standing around! 10 laps around the building!"

With that she went back to yelling at trainer, who in turn looked like he wanted to disappear. I sighed, typically day at the training center. It seemed like nobody realized Reaping Day was today. After completing my laps and a bit of archery, it was time to head to the Reapings. Despite the Quarter Quell twist, there was still a large amount of people eligible for the Reapings, not like it would matter much, after all, I was winning, I mean volunteering. I suppose that's what happens when you live in the richest district of Panem.

The reapings came and went in the blink of the eye, "Welcome to the 175th Hunger Games, blah, blah, blah, I volunteered as tribute, blah, blah, blah..."

The only standout of the reaping, had to be my district partner's 'non-volunteer'. At first I was confused as to why nobody volunteered, but as soon as I recognized Sterling Roberts, my curiosity was quenched. Of course...my district partner had to be the son of two previous victors and obviously a perfect tribute for the games. I had seen around the training center on occasion, but I had never really talked to him too much.

In all honesty, we were both well known in our own ways around the district, for different reasons of course, but never the less, district 1 was already looking quite popular.

"Sterling Roberts," the tall blonde offered, holding out his hand. He was rather good looking, blonde hair, crystal blue eyes and all, however, I suppose that's what you get when you breed victors.

"I know," I replied, shaking his hand firmly, "Isla Boccaria."

"I know," he replied, "You ready?"

I couldn't really read his voice. His tone wasn't confident or sarcastic nor anything distinguishable but I still smirked as if I was all knowing, "Please Sterling, I think we both know I was born ready."

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><p><strong>Connifer Picket, 14, District 12<strong>

_**-david12341**_

The sky explodes in a burst of golden rays of light peeking through the clear blue sky. It was a better sunrise then you could ever hope for in district 12. With the coal mines shut down, you could see the sky clearly, the black fumes that are normally pumped into the air taking the day off. It's really quite too bad something so beautiful can only happens on a day so horrible as today.

Below the sky, the streets of the seam that are normally so busy and bustling, are instead dead silent. Weird, really, considering none of them have anything to worry about today.

I'm seated at the edge of a small hill, just big enough to see all edges of the seam, yet small enough to avoid the gaze of the industrial park that I call home directly behind me.

I woke up an hour ago this morning, and after slipping on an inconspicuous tan T-shirt, snuck out.

This isn't the first time I've snuck out to come here. It's a nice break from all the private tutoring and elegant parties that normally fill my day, but something I still keep to a minimum.

My father and aunt run the coal mines in the district, and as the only child that either of them have, I'm expected to run the company some day. Because of that I've had my mother become my tutor, teaching me the finer elements of everything from running a business to Mathematics. I'm sort of locked up at home, never allowed to see the district. If I did go out, I would have to be in the same area as the miners and street-urchins of the district, something my mother is keen on not letting happen.

"What are you doing here?" The voice snaps me back into reality, and I leap in the air and look to my right. Much to my relief, it's not my parents, just a boy around my age. He's clearly from the seam, from the dark black hair and seam grey eyes to the impoverished cheekbones.

I turn away from him and huff. "None of your business commoner." I barely let out the last word before he bursts out laughing.

"Well," he says, interrupting his laughter. "You're the one sitting here watching us 'commoners', aren't you?"

I feel my cheeks flush and spin around to face him. "For your information I am simply watching the sunrise, it might be the last I see after all." I turn away for a second before facing him again. "Though I guess that is not a matter you have to worry about is it?"

He looks back at me with sorrow for a second, before rolling his eyes. "Ya, whatever you say princess."

"My name is Conifer." I mutter under my breath.

"Conifer?" He replies dumbfounded. "That's wayy to long, I'm gonna call you Connie." With a bright smile he sticks out his hand, but I ignore it.

"You won't be calling me anything, now please go off to whatever you were doing before you saw me." I say quite harshly, bringing my arms up in a cross over my chest.

He brings his arm back and shrugs."Alright, guess I'm not worthy to be in your presence anyways are I?" He asks sarcastically. He's begins walking away and is about halfway down the hill when he stops and turns around. "Name's Ace by the way, try not to die today!"

With that he turns back around and walks down the hill, leaving me lying down, the sun rising on a new day. And yet, one already one filled with regrets.

* * *

><p>I stare into my reflection on the mirror, my strawberry blonde hair in a tight bun and bright seam grey eyes dominating the rest of my features.<p>

Just a couple minutes after my run in with the seam kid I came back here, and soon after my parents and aunt woke up.

My outfit for the reaping is a periwinkle dress that goes down to my ankles. The top has a collar and flowy sleeves, the waistline a simple A-line. I slip on the last part of my outfit, simple gold flats a tad too big for my tiny feet.

After double and triple checking everything, I head out to the living room, where my parents are chatting with my aunt, the table already set.

Silently I take my seat next to my mother, and I drone out the mindless chatter of politics. Soon after the breakfast arrives. It's a fairly simple dish, just some Eggs Prescott, along with buttered toast, strawberries, and some milk.

The four of us eat, father occasionally tossing in a comment, and within half an hour we're all finished.

The meal now done, the attention turns to me. "So, Connifer." My mother says offhandedly, wiping her mouth graciously with her table cloth. "How are you doing this fine morning?"

"Fine, mother." I respond automatically. "A tad bit nervous about the reaping today, but I'm sure I'll be fine."

My aunt nods. "Such a ridiculous twist. Why should us, the leaders, the ones most loyal to the Capitol, be punished like this?"

"I'll tell you what." My father adds in, his hands in the shape of a fist on a table. "I just can't fathom why they're giving the miners, the ones who are so defiant and ungrateful to the Capitol, get spared from them."

My aunt shakes her head and sighs. "Who knows, maybe they'll finally figure out how kind the Capitol really is and stop being so silly."

"If only." Mother mutters beneath her breath.

The conversation goes on like this for a while longer, them talking about how ungrateful the poor are and how great the Capitol is. I talk when they ask me to, but otherwise stay quiet, only half listening.

After another thirty minutes of rambling, my mother looks up at the clock and stands up. "Well, I think we best be headed to the reaping, don't want to be late now do we?"

Nope, I think, never too early to go rush to your potential death. But instead I just nod my head and give a word of agreement, following close behind my family.

We walk in silence to the town square, a fairly short walk. Around us are mostly seam kids and their parents, all bubbly at the prospect of me dying instead of them.

We arrive at the center, and after saying goodbye, I walk up to get my finger pricked, then enter into my section.

Seeing the tiny number of kids eligible scares me a bit, but I shake it off. There's only 9 other girls here, and although that may seem bad, considering my young age my odds of getting picked are only about 5%.

Just on time, the escort-a tall woman with sky blue hair- the mayor, and our two surviving victors step out.

The mayor gives his speech of the dark days, rebellion, the treaty of treason, and everything in between.

Finally he finishes, and the escort steppe out. She taps the mic once, and gives a dazzling smile.

"Welcome everyone to the reaping of the 175th Hunger Games!" She pauses for applause, and after 10 seconds of not getting any, continues. "As always, ladies first!" She quickly struts over to the bowl, grabs the first slip she touches, and walks back to the podium, unfolding it on the way.

"The female tribute is... Connifer Pickett!"

I let out a deep sigh of relief, my mind not at all comprehending what just happened. The aristocratic teenagers all start mumbling and staring at me, and the idiot escort repeats herself. "Connifer Pickett?"

Shakily I make my way up to the stage, and when I look back to see my parents, only can spot father, stone-faced as ever, staring beyond me.

I climb up the steps, and the escort doesn't even bother asking for volunteers. She sizes me up for a moment, frowns, and walks towards the boy reaping bowl. Thanks for the encouragement lady.

After grabbing the boys slip, she makes her way back to the podium, and reads the name. "Inferno Smit!"

I look out to the crowd to find the unfamiliar person, and one of the 18-year-olds steps out. Strangely enough he has the seam features of seam grey eyes and dark hair, yet is still somehow wealthy enough to be here.

He gets up the steps, and gives me a smile before taking his place behind me.

The escort then forces the two of us to shake hands, and speaks into the mic one more time. "The tributes for the 175th annual Hunger Games!"

And with that, the two of us are ushered away, and I take my final look at district 12, a new horror awaiting beyond it.

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><p><strong>AN: Hey everyone! Butterfly here :) So, what did you think of these two characters? Our writing? Excited for more? H****opefully you enjoyed that first reaping chapter from David and I :) Reviews/comments are highly appreciated :)**


	5. Reapings (D2 and D11)

**Pewter Jaspire, 18, District 2**

_**-david12341**_

I stand alert at my post between the two shoes, eyes scanning the grassy field ahead of me. In front of me some 20 feet and slightly to my right is my sole teammate, my best friend Raymond.

Currently he was chasing after my sister Crystina, who was charging at me, the beaten up old ball kicking against her feet. As I readied myself for her kick, I stole a glance at the last player in our game, my sister's friend Eliza.

I dig my feet into the ground, and my sister boots the ball right at me. I catch the ball with ease, but the sheer force sends me flying backwards, the ball still firmly cradled in my hands, just barely ahead of the shoes that mark the goal.

Raymond comes running up to me whooping and hollering, and the two of us high-five as I toss the ball to me angry looking sister.

Ezra comes running up, and puts her hand up in the air for a half second before dropping it. "Good game guys."

I smile towards her and nod my head. "Yeah, well played."

My sister rolls her eyes and snorts. "Ya, ya, whatever, we'll crush you next time like we always do, don't worry." She tosses the ball over to Eliza and yawns, stretching out her arms. "Well big bro, guess we better be heading home, we're still in for the reapings this year."

Raymond shakes his head. "Still find it ridiculous your still in it."

I shrug. "Our dad was mayor, so we still count as upper-class."

"Ya, like 10 years ago." Raymond argues. "And it's not like you're super rich either."

I wince at the mention of my father. Even though its been years, my parent's death still affect me. Unwanted images suddenly flash before my eyes.

_My siblings, Ambion, Crystina, Julie and I are all seated silently on stage, watching our father give a speech to the mumbling transgression below. Then, a silence. Something feels wrong and my dad seems to realize this as well as he peers back towards us. But it's too late._

_Out of nowhere, a bullet flies into my dads neck. I'm screaming. My father doesn't even have time to so much as move a finger before he falls over backwards._

_My mother dashes over to him, ignoring the shouts of security guards. She's kneeling over him, tears in her eyes as she whispers to him._

_A wall of guards surrounds us, and despite any kicking and screaming, no matter any protests, they drag us away._

_One of the guards is short, and for a split second I can pe__er over his head, just enough to see my mom. Just long enough to see the bullet enter her head_

* * *

><p>I open the door to my closet, and peer in. Most of it is plain t-shirts, but there's a few nice shirts I could wear to the reaping. After sifting through countless clothes, I find a white button-up dress shirt and slip it on.<p>

The shirt is wrinkled up, and a bit small, but it'll do. I have much less trouble with pants, slipping some brown slacks on.

After checking my hair in the mirror to make sure it's okay, my dark black hair as wavy as ever, I rush downstairs to the living/dining room.

It's a fairly small room, an ancient table with 4 beaten up chairs on on side, a couch and desk on the other.

I take my seat at the table where my 14-year-old younger sister Julie is already eating. I reach over and grab a piece of toast from her plate, and pop it in my mouth, giving her a smile.

She doesn't protest, instead just rolling her eyes, and grabbing another slice.

"So," I ask, biting down on the buttery toast. "How you feeling?"

She shrugs. "Bit nervous, nothing major." She pauses a moment, then quickly adds. "You however, should be nervous."

I eye her questioningly. "And why is that?"

She shrugs again. "Nothing, its just a rumor, but..." She trails off, her eyes now inspecting her plate.

"But what?" I ask, keeping my voice steady.

"It's just a rumor, probably not true, but everyone is saying..." She takes a deep breath. "Everyone is saying there won't be any male volunteers."

Her voice suddenly picks up speed and intensity as she continues. "And some people are also saying that us still being in the reaping bowl wasn't an accident, that they're rigging it so we get reaped.

"Julie-"

She puts up her hand to cut me off. "It's not what I'm saying, as I said, just a rumor."

I look down at my food for a minute, then shake my head. "Where's Ambion and Crys?" I ask, standing up. "Reaping starts in fifteen minutes, we ought to get going."

Julie looks up from her food. "Ambion decided to leave early, said there was something he had to do. As for Crys..." She shrugs. "Probably in her room, I'll go get her."

I nod to her. "Alright, I'll clean up then."

She leaves the living room and runs upstairs, and I put away our dishes. I'm just finished when the two come down, and I tersely nod to them, and we begin the short, half-mile walk to the reaping.

We get to the square just in time, and after quickly getting my finger pricked, wave goodbye to Crys and Julie, and take my spot with the other 18-year-olds. I get a few dirty looks, typical considering the general dissent for my father, but no one says anything.

The escort, a young lady with blue hair and a fluffy blue jacket comes bounding out, followed by all 11 of our surviving victors, but no mayor.

She taps the mic once, and with a high-pitched, excited sounding voice, speaks. "Welcome everyone to the 175th Annual Hunger Games! Sadly the mayor could not make it today, so we will be skipping right to the reapings!" A scattered applause comes from the crowd, and she walks over to the female reaping bowl, plucking a slip from the top.

She walks back to the podium, and hurriedly unfolds the paper, a gleeful look obvious on her face that makes me shake my head with disgust. "The female tribute is... Valentine-"

"I volunteer!" A voice cuts out from the crowd, and a girl with strait brown hair and a pointed face steps out from the crowd, a bright smile on her face.

The escort looks on with pure giddy. "Now what's your name young lady?" She asks.

"Ezra Brand." She replies quite proudly, flashing a smile at the crowd. I can't help but feel sorry for her, she has no idea what she's getting herself into.

"Now for the boys." The woman says, yet again grabbing the first slip she touches, rushing back to the podium.

"The male tribute is... Pewter Jaspire!"

My heart stops. Around me murmurs break out from the crowd, and remembering Julie's words, force a smile on my face as I make my way up to the stage. With every single step my heart drops, and for the first time in my life I'm desperate to hear the words, 'I volunteer!' But of course, the one time I wish for it, it doesn't happen.

I soon find myself up on the stage standing next to Ezra, the escort looking at me, no signs of disappointment clear.

She asks for any volunteers, and after no one steps forward, she has the two of us shake hands. I reach over and extend it to Ezra, and she gives me a dazzling smile, accepting the handshake.

But above her glamorous smile, I see something completely different in her deep brown eyes. Something that I don't like at all.

* * *

><p><strong>Lyndon Keller, 17, District 11<strong>

_**-butterflygirly99**_

"Psssst! Kell! Just get your butt over this fence so we can go!" Zavier called out impatiently, from over the snow lily white wooden fence. Although his voice was no louder than a carrying whisper, his large presence commanded attention. Sadly, Zavier was quite aware of his height, his 6'1 stature towering over me and he often teased me about being barely 5'5. Shaking my head, I hauled myself over the fence, greeting both Zavier and his girlfriend, Jacie.

"Hey Lyndon, ready to go?" Jacie asked me, embracing me in a tight hug, her neck clearly smelling of Zavier cologne. Who knows what they had been up to before Zavier called me over?

"Yeah, let's go. Aiden's place right?" I asked, doubling checking with my two closest friends. To be honest, I was really glad Zavier and Jacie were two of my closest friends. I had grown up with a pair of very uptight and strict parents, and Zavier was the first one to introduce me to the world outside of my backyard.

Our friendship had started when we were fairly young. We would throw and catch a ball over the seemingly tall white wooden fence. Back and forth, back and forth. Finally we grew tired of the wall between us, so I ran outside to meet my friend behind the fence. We ended up playing all day, and into the night. My parents weren't very happy with what had happened and ended up grounding me and I knew they were just trying to protect me, but I couldn't help but feel the need to rebel more after that.

The only plus side of my parents, was that I had a lot of pull around town. After all, when your father is district 11's executioner, you tend to get away with a lot. Despite the amount of power given to me father, he hated his job. Just before I was born, he had been asked to replace the previous executioner, who lacked certain qualities- like being alive.

Although it should have been a temporary arrangement until they had found the right peacekeeper for the job, the arrangement has lasted 18 years. To be quite frank, the executioner isn't supposed to have any children, but it's district 11, so nobody cares. It's quite sad that even the richest in the district are considered 'nobodies' to the rest of Panem.

Tonight, Zavier, Jacie, and I were all sneaking out to the biggest party of the year, the Pre-Reapings party, this year being held at Aiden Japell's place. As Jacie and Zavier held hands and walked next to me, I couldn't stop my thoughts from wandering to Aiden. A couple months ago, we shared a kiss at this massive party, but to this day he still denies it. Love really is cruel.

As soon as we approached Aiden's house, we could hear the faint sound of Capitol music playing from inside the house, but upon opening the door, we were blasted with booming music. The house was decently full, and I knew that every kid here was eligible for the reaping this year.

This year's quell, really didn't make sense to me. Why was the Capitol punishing us? We did no wrong, in fact we are they're biggest supporters. Jacie guessed that the Capitol was doing this to gain support of the poor, who are an overwhelmingly larger group than we are. While her theory did seem logical, the Capitol never seemed to care about the poor, so why now?

Zander, on the other hand, proposed that the Capitol just wanted to get the best victor possible this year, after all, what's a quell without an exciting winner. I suppose reaping from the rich and powerful automatically made the chances of healthy, strong victor much higher.

Before I could think to much more about the games, Jacie and Zander disappeared into the crowd, leaving me by myself. Not sure what to do with myself as I usually stuck with them, I headed towards the stairs, hoping a bird's eye view would help. As I climbed up the crowed stairs, I forced myself past each individual, accidentally bumping straight into a boy headed down. I was about to profusely apologize before I recognized the face.

"Hey Kell! So glad you decided to come! Zander told me you were on the fence about coming..." Aiden yelled over the noise, "Grab a drink, dance a little! Who knows? This might be our last night in district 11!"

Just as I was about to reply, a girl with long dark ash brown hair walked up to us, wrapping her arm around Aiden possessively, nuzzling at his neck.

"I think I'll leave you two be..." I muttered awkwardly, walking away from my friend.

What was I thinking? Aiden was going to deny that kiss to the grave, and to think I actually had a chance with him was just crazy talk. Aiden's always been the type to fall for the first pretty girl he laid his eyes on, so I'm not sure why I expected anything else from him. Climbing down the stairs, melting into the crowd I grabbed the first drink I could find and chugged it down.

I would not be heartbroken tonight, there'll be plenty of time for that later. Tonight is going to be fun and I am going to make sure of it.

* * *

><p>"Thumb, please," the peacekeeper muttered as pricked the tip of my finger. As I feel into line with the rest of the 17 year old males, I attempted to readjust the white vest shirt I was wearing. Although the shirt paired well with my dark wash blue jeans, black trainers, and my black leather-looking jacket, it was extremely hot. Beads of sweat dripped down my spine as the sweltering heat beat down on us.<p>

Looking around, I quickly eyed the reaping bowl. Contrary to what I expected, both bowls was quite empty, unlike Aiden's house yesterday. I suppose the Capitol had higher standards than I expected.

Our escort didn't say much before heading straight to the female reaping bowl and dishing her hand into the the bowl and picking out a name. They're was only about 15 names in the girl's bowl, so our escort didn't have too much fishing around to do.

She paused for a split moment before calling out the name in a clear voice, "Lorelei Orchard?"

A little bit of shuffling around took place in the 15 year old girl section, before a curly haired girl appeared and walked up to the stage looking purely terrified. I instantly recognized her, although a little younger than me, I had seen her at just about every party I had gone to and as I far as I was concerned, I quite clearly remember her with Aiden a couple parties ago.

The girl looked quite shaken, and I could tell she was already racking up sympathy from just about everyone in the crowd, including our escort.

"You okay, Lorelei?" our escort as the girl, who looked like she wanted to be anywhere but here.

She nodded before speaking in a surprisingly clear voice, "I'm okay, and just call me Lori...Lorelei is far too long."

Despite the fear projected on her face, he voice was void of and nervousness at all. After what seemed like a few moments of awkward silence, our escort headed to the boy's bowl, "Lyndon Keller?"

I nodded his head slowly in acceptance and I gave Zavier a warning glare, knowing exactly what he was thinking. Before he could volunteer or do anything stupid, I walked up to the stage willingly, giving Jacie's hand a squeeze as I passed her and gave the slightest of winks in Zavier's direction.

Giving a soft smile I addressed the crowd, "Come on you guys, don't look so glum and upset."

I patted Lori on the back and smiled at her, "We'll be just fine. Right?"

I doubt I've ever seen someone look that grateful before but, she took my hand and attempted to match my smile, "Right. We got this."

_We got this._

* * *

><p><strong>AN: Hey guys, butterfly here! Hope you enjoyed that chapter and are enjoying the story so far. So what did you think of these two tributes? Any favorites so far between the 4 we've revealed so far? Reviews and comments are highly appreciated!**

* * *

><p><strong>Hey, David12341 here, just would like to remind everyone reviews are food. That is all.<strong>


	6. Reapings (D3 and D10)

**Ethan Booker, 17, District 3**

It was early morning in district 3 and I couldn't help but relish in the stolen moments of peace and quiet. Living in Victor's Village was quite pleasant and offered a rather lavish lifestyle, however with 75% of the residents completely insane, alcoholics, or high on something, it was rare to catch a quiet moment during the day. Luckily for me, my father was part of the 25% who managed to stay sane.

With the reapings happening today, I couldn't help but feel slightly nervous. The reaping pool was quite small and I had a higher chance of being reaped then ever, but I was glad that bits of my father's training might pay off.

Since I was little, my father had been "training" me like you would a career. We worked at knife throwing, speed and agility, and other endurance skills. My father had always done it to prepare me for the games, but I personally just enjoyed the father-son bonding time.

My father had won his games off of intellect by creating complex traps, but he knew that with the quell approaching, I'd have to be prepared with more than intellect. When my father had volunteered 17 years ago, he was only 18 with a pregnant girlfriend and no money. He figured that if he managed to win, he's have money and a house to raise his me. Luckily, he managed to win and I ended up being one of the most privileged kids in the district, and eventually my sister was born, adding to our cushy family.

My sister, Jennifer, has always been the smartest girl around, taking right after my father. She's always the type to finish her tests first and read books far beyond her level. Although I'm not nearly as smart as Jennifer or my father, I'd like to think I'm still quite intelligent.

Taking a quick peek at my new watch wrapped around my wrist, I noticed it was nearing 6 o'clock and I should probably start getting ready before the rest of the village woke up. Victor's Village shared all the water pipes, and since I've always been partial to warm showers, I've always been an early riser.

After a long, hot shower, I slipped into a pair of jeans and black button down shirt. As I began running a comb through my dark brown hair, I heard some rustling in the next room and then the shower turn on and I knew my sister was awake. Before I could think too much, my sister came bounding into my room in her royal blue dress, looking identical to my mother, red hair and all. While both my mother and sister sported bright red hair, I looked far more similar to my father, with brown hair and eyes.

"Ethan!" she exclaimed, "Do I look aesthetically pleasing? Abigail said I did."

I chuckled, "Of course you do. You always look great, sis...Did Abigail really say that?"

"Yes..." she replied, looking around, avoiding my eyes.

I gave her my best 'I know you're lying' look, before she broke down.

She rolled her eyes, "Fine. She didn't use that exact phrasing, but she did say I looked pretty when I answered the door."

"Wait. Abigail's here? Now?" I asked, all of a sudden becoming a little nervous.

To be honest, I've had a really big crush on Abigail since I've known her. She smart, funny, and gorgeous with dark brown hair and gray eyes that make me weak at the knees every time I see her.

My sister didn't refrain from rolling her eyes again before responded, "I believe that I implied that Abigail is here in my previous statement."

I nodded, trying to prevent the growing grin on my face as I headed out of my room, "Yeah, yeah. We're all not as smart a you, Jen,"

Heading down the stairs I quickly spotted Abigail reading the latest issue of _Capitolite Weekly, _which my mother had left on the coffee table last night. Unlike Jen and I, Abigail was dressed in her normal clothes. Abigail belonged to one of the few middle class families in the district, and there forth wasn't eligible for the reapings and didn't even have to show up for them. For once, I was glad that I didn't have to worry about Abigail being reaped. My sister was just turned 10, so she didn't have to worry about the reapings for a few years.

Now I just had to worry for one person...and maybe it wasn't me.

* * *

><p>The reapings had been shorter than usual. Our escort had been in quite the rush to get the ceremony over, talking extremely fast, blowing through her entire script so fast, we were already at the drawings.<p>

As usual, she headed over the girls' bowl first, "Omni Kincaid?" she called out, searching around. I let out a sigh of relief, knowing that nobody I knew had been reaped. Soon, I noticed a young girl, most likely barely 12 rise up to the stage, shaking with fright.

She looked around, searching for help, but we all knew none was coming. For starters the reaping pool was extremely tiny, and from the looks of it, the other girls seemed glad it wasn't them. I gave Jen a light smile as the escort headed towards the boy's bowl. Jen stood nervously with my mother in the crowd, while my father was seated on stage with other victors.

"Kayden Reel?" she called out. I was about to let out another sigh of relief, before I recognized the name. It was Kayden...the adorable little 13 year old who ran around Victor's Village without a care in the world.

He wouldn't fair a chance in the games. District 3 wouldn't have a chance this year. A 12 and a 13 year old. That couldn't happen, but there was nothing I could do...or was there?

I looked at my father and made eye contact with him. He knew me well enough to know what I was thinking. He slightly jerked his head to the side as if to say 'the final decision is up to you'.

I sucked in my breath before yelling out, "I VOLUNTEER!"

The sparse clapping that had filled the air went dead silent. It was a split second decision, but my dad had volunteered for a 13 year old and maybe it was my turn to live up to my father, and do some good.

Kayden looked extremely grateful as I walked up to the stage and stood next to the young girl.

The escort smiled at me awkwardly, she certainly wasn't expecting this, "And what is your name, dearie?"

"Ethan, Ethan Booker," I replied, turning back to look at my father who nodded at me with respect. He understood my decision and I knew he supported it.

"Well, you wouldn't happen to be related to Paul Booker, now would you?" she asked, although I was pretty sure she knew the answer.

"Yeah, he's my dad," I explained nodding in his direction.

Our escort quickly rushed us through the rest of the proceedings, before we shook hands and were ushered into the Justice Building. As we headed into the building my father gave my the slightest of thumbs up.

My dad's confidence in me told me I was going to be okay. Besides, at the worst, I saved a life.

* * *

><p><strong>Tank Russell, 18, District 10<strong>

My eyes slowly creak open, and with a groan, I roll out of bed, falling to the floor. Groggily I get up, stretching out my arms and letting out a yawn.

I slowly walk over to my dresser, and pull it open, taking my time to decide what to wear. After about 15 minutes of sifting through clothes, I find a tan short sleeved button down and a pair of beige shorts.

Quickly I slip them both on, and exit my room, immediately entering the living room. The room is eerily silent, not a single sound coming from even the city.

I hear a door opening behind me, and don't even half to turn around to see who it is.

"Mornin' Tank." Davis, my adoptive father, calls out. "How ya doing?"

I shrug, turning to face him. Despite being my 'father,' he's young, only 10 years older than me. He still has a boyish look to him, with short light brown hair and eyes.

Neither of us look like we belong here, but that's probably because neither of us do. Davis is a peacekeeper from district 2, and as for me... it's complicated.

I was born and raised in district 8, spending the first 13 years of my life as a slave to a rich family there. My parents and two younger sisters and I were 'servants,' but servant implies we had a choice to work there. We were barely paid, treated like dogs, had eternal chores to do, and lived in a small basement that never saw the light of day. So one day, my father came up with a plan to escape. To escape not only our owners, but the whole district.

My dad was killed almost immediately, my mother and one of my little sisters fate unknown, but Tatiana and I, we escaped. We lived in the woods for two weeks, and when we reached the fence of district 10, we were starving to death, and it took us hours to pry down the fence, our hands stained with blood by the end, but we did it.

The two of us got lucky once more inside district 10 when Davis took the two if us under his care, pretty much adopting us, saving us from starvation.

But of course it couldn't be that easy, and 3 years later Tatiana was reaped. She barely lasted 5 minutes, dead in the bloodbath.

That was two years ago, and now I'm just a few hours away from being free of the games.

I pick up a bagel and toss it on my plate, then look up to Davis. "So, any news on whether I'll be accepted into becoming a peacekeeper?"

He shrugs. "No, but I wouldn't get your hopes up, it's a long shot."

I nod in understanding. Even if my dad is a peacekeeper, the odds of them letting some random district kid become one is very slim.

Anyways, even if I couldn't become a peacekeeper, they need guards for the processing plant, and they pay quite well.

Davis shoves a roll into his mouth, and after quickly choking it down, stands up and turns to me. "Gotta go to the reaping, they have me stationed, I'll see you in a few hours, we'll have a nice turkey dinner."

I nod to him, and he exits through the front door. The Justice building is just a block away, so he keeps all his equipment there. No one seems to mind, so why not?

After finishing up breakfast, I head into Davis' room, and slip on his tan fedora. He won't be using it, and I'm sure he wouldn't mind if I did. Making some final checks in the mirror, I head out to the square, locking the door behind me.

It only takes me a minute to get there, and I take my place in the 18 year old section, which is fairly empty. Normally this place would be packed full, the maximum capacity of kids here, but not today. There's not many wealthy people in district 10 after all.

The escort, a blue haired man in his 30's, steps out on stage, and informs us that the treaty of treason will be skipped this year. Its no wonder why, as the mayor was executed for assisting in the assassination of the president.

He instead skips directly to the selection of the female tribute, hurriedly walking over to the bowl and grabbing the first slip he touches.

"Baylor Terrance!"

A very angry looking girl with light hair, a purple top and jeans makes her way up to the stage, refusing the helping hand of the escort.

He shrugs, and walks over to the males bowl. I hold my breathe. This is it, where I'm either set free of the games or given a death sentence.

He snatches a slip, and at the podium carefully unfolds it, coughing. "Tank Russel!"

My eyes widen, and the kids around me all turn to face me. No, this can't be true, I can't be going in.

"Tank Russel?"

I shake my head, and take a deep breathe, slowly walking up stage. I keep my face void of all emotion, but can't keep my eyes from wandering, attempting to spot Davis. No such luck.

Accepting the mentors hand, I step up stage, and take a look at the crowd. There's a scattered applause as our escort asks for one, and after the two of us shake hands, the peacekeepers lead us away.

Just as I'm leaving the view of the district, I spot Davis standing frozen at the edge of the crowd. My eyes catch his, and I take a deep breathe, giving him one last terse nod before being ushered off stage.

* * *

><p><strong>Hey guys, david12341 here. Sorry for the short chapter, finals suck. On another note, I have a poll on my personal account to decide which story(s) to do next, so make sure to check that out! Also, do you guys want 6 reaping chapters, or do you want to somehow break it up(goodbyes maybe?)<strong>

**Butterfly here! So this week an next week have been finals weeks for me too, so sorry if this is terrible (I am exhausted as hell). But anyways, what did you think of the characters in this chapter? **


	7. Reapings (D4 and D9)

**Ethan Gennin, 16, District 4**

"Mr. Gennin, unfortunately, you're free to go. I hope you've learned your lesson," one of the guards muttered as he released me from my cell, his tone filled with annoyance as he added, "Same kid bailed you out."

I just rolled my eyes and walked out to find my best friend, Max, waiting for me, his arms crossed, "What were you thinking Ethan? Hitting a peacekeeper? This is your second strike! One more and you'll be stuck in that cell permanently, no bail. You're lucky your sister told me what happened."

"Just shut it, Max. I'm not in the mood to be lectured," I replied with the slightest sneer.

He just ignored me, and continued on with his speech, "When are you going to grow up? I get it. You're life is a mess, but you can't keep letting your anger get the best of you. For heaven's sake, you nearly nearly broke a boy's neck once! I can't keep bailing you out of jail every time you want to disrespect authority."

"Look, I'm 16 years old. I make my own decisions and I never asked you to bail me out," I replied as we headed out of district 4's holding cell prison.

He glared, "If that's your way of saying 'thank you', you're welcome."

I sighed, "I'm not sorry, but I've just had a lot on my plate lately with the reapings being today and everything else."

"Yeah, I can't believe it you count as 'upper class' just because your dad was mayor once upon a time," he replied, choosing to ignore my previous rudeness. That's why Max and I managed to get along. He'd lecture me, but somehow always managed to subdue my anger.

Walking down towards where the reapings were taking place in silence, I felt the anger slowly fading away. I wasn't sure what I would do if I was reaped, but I knew that if I was, I wouldn't be put into these games without a fight.

The reapings wouldn't take place for a while, so we headed to the market to get something to eat. Our grain shipment from district 9 had just come in, so today's meal would most likely contain bread, which would be a pleasant change. Looking around, I noticed a small, unattended fish stand with three loaves of bread just sitting there.

"Up for a free meal?" I asked Max, as I began walking towards it.

"Ethan, I don't steal and don't you dare mess with that stand. You touch that stand and I swear, I will never bail you out again," he replied as he walked away giving me a warning look.

All of a sudden, the anger that I had released began building up in me like a balloon filling up with air. Ignoring Max's warning, I stalked over to the stand a picked up bunch of fish along with the loaves of bread and tossed it into a nearby empty barrel.

My anger continued to build and I began kicking the worn wood that held together the stand. Starting to laugh, I enjoyed destroying the unattended stand and watching it fall to it's knees. Before I knew it, the wooden stall was in complete shambles. With that, I picked up the barrel of fish I had stolen and turned around. I noticed a girl staring at me with wide eyes, her mouth hanging open, her eyes brimming with tears.

She tried to form words, but she couldn't come up with anything, so to fill the silence I simply laughed, "_Sorry_," I added sarcastically, "_My bad._"

Lifting my chin high, I marched away from the destroyed fish stand and headed towards the reapings area.

From behind me, the fish stand girl yelled out, "I really hope you're reaped. _You deserve it_."

* * *

><p>After sitting through about half an hour of idiocy, the escort finally went to the female bowl and began sifting through the bowl for a female name. The escort was a tall man with deep, booming voice and once his large hand selected a name, he read it out, "Elysia Avery."<p>

It didn't take long to look through the female rather small female section a pick out who the name belonged to. Some dumb brunette headed up to the stage looking mildly surprised.

The escort gave her the slightest of smiles, which she managed to return. The sooner she died, the happier I'd be, she was already starting to annoy me for some reason.

"Now for the boys, Ethan Gennin," He called out. I didn't move, "Ethan Gennin?"

I scoffed this would not happen. I refused to go into the games.

I started to run, however, the nearest peacekeeper tried to restrain me, causing me to punch him square in the nose. By then, another group of peacekeepers had surrounded me, forcing me up to the stage, then into the justice building. I tried to clawing my way away from them, but they one in the numbers so I was forced into a room all to similar to the cell I had been in this morning.

From inside the cell, I mean room, I could hear that the escort was attempting to calm the crowd and quickly finish up the reapings.

Screw the escort. Screw the Capitol. And mostly, screw the Games.

* * *

><p><strong>Kenna Karlise, 16, District 9<strong>

The golden sun blazes down on me, my tattered clothes offering no protection from the heat. On all sides I'm surrounded by small shops, and directly ahead of my the Justice Building and reaping area.

Behind me someone shoves into my, and I stagger for a moment. After regaining my balance I steadily make my way to the center.

Right in front of me a small line of kids are getting their blood taken by Peacekeepers. Behind them is a small stage with two empty looking reaping bowls, 4 chairs for our mayor and few remaining victors and a podium.

All around the makeshift stage are dreary, grey banners with the Capitol insignia on it. On top of the Justice Building are a few camera men. Just beyond the small town center you can make out row upon row of golden grain, the suns rays bouncing off of them, illuminating the whole field...

Another shove sends me forward, and I give out my hand to the Peacekeeper, wincing a bit as he pricks my finger.

He gives me a nod and I silently make my way to the nearly empty 16-year-old section. Normally the reaping area is packed full and manages to be both vibrant and terrifying at the same time, but today it's neither. Its more...sad kinda. The few kids here are all silent, the only sound a few choked out sobs from the little kids.

I don't belong here, that much is clear to me. Me being in the reaping bowl was an accident. My dad died a month before I was born, but when he was alive he held a position in the government. A clerical error made it so he was never taken off his position, so now I'm here because of it.

Most all of the kids here are from the few processing plants that haven't been moved to the Capitol.

Food processing used to be our main industry, but about 25 years ago some of the workers aloud something called bolitinum, and 83 Capitol children died. A month later they aloud another disease in, this time killing 94 kids. 177 kids; over half the amount of our kids killed by the Hunger Games.

It goes without saying that soon enough almost all processing plants were shut down.

Good riddance to them. The plants polluted the land, making half the district a wasteland, the other half a grain field that we're not aloud to do anything but work in.

If only I lived somewhere else. I mean, I love district 9, it's beautiful, but we're never aloud to actually observe its beauty, not aloud to be in it. Instead I'm locked up in old dusty and dark shacks that reek of death and sickness, packed to the brim with other orphans.

Being able to live somewhere where I can live in the wild, being able to immerse myself in nature, would be fantastic.

The tapping of the mic snaps me back out of my daydreams, and I see the escort strutting up to the podium as the mayor takes his seat. Missed the speech it seems. Darn.

The escort, a flamboyant looking guy with blue streaks in his jet black hair, gives a smile to the crowd. "Welcome everyone, to the reaping of the 175th Annual Hunger Games!" He's practically bubbling with excitement, and I politely clap, joining the scattered applause.

"Boys first!" He says, bounding over to the bowl, grabbing a slip quickly.

After making his way back to the podium, he unfolds the slip. "The male tribute is... Cliff Easton."

Nothing happens for a moment, then, a boy dashes away, running towards the crowd. He only makes it a couple of feet from the roped off area before he gets clubbed in the head with a Peacekeepers baton.

They half to pretty much drag him up, and the escort plasters a smile on his face, though its clear he's embarrassed.

"Well, uhh, now for the female tribute!" He hurries over to the reaping bowl, and with his cheeks a crimson red, he grabs a slip. He gets back to the podium, and reads it quietly for a moment before coughing, and turning to the mic, his voice frantic. "The female tribute is Kenna Karlise."

I let out a sigh. Whatever, its not like I wasn't expecting it. I've put in far more tessera than anyone else here.

Being sure to keep my legs from shaking, I walk up to the stage. The escort looks relieved that I'm not embarrassing him, while my district partner is barely conscious, leaning against one of the Peacekeepers. He must have got hit hard.

I give a weak smile to the camera, and the escort beams out at the crowd. "Ladies and gentlemen, your tributes for the 175th Hunger Games!"

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><p><strong>AN: **

**Hi all, Butterfly here! Hope you enjoyed that chapter :) What did you think of these tributes? Finals just got over on my side so sorry for the shortness! Reviews are the best!**

**David12341 here, I've had to write 4 pages of separate essays the last 2 weeks, so sorry for the short chapter and delay, next one will be soon!**


	8. Reapings (D5 and D8)

**Joule-Dipole "JD" Cooper, 14, District 5**

"How was work today, mom?" I asked looking towards my mother as she passed me the large metallic bowl containing my soup.

She smiled in response, before answering, "Pretty decent considering all the firings that go on during this time of year. You've really got to have an iron hand when reapings come around."

I nodded, however I was quite surprised that the people were still angry even after the Quell twist. As the son of a high ranking peacekeeper, I was eligible for the reapings this year, despite the fact my father was a simple food seller. I've never disliked or blamed the Capitol unlike many of the citizens of here in district 5 and even with the twist, I wasn't too angry. The Capitol was a smart and capable governing body, so I had faith in what they did.

With that said, I wasn't an crazy, obsessed lover of the Capitol, like those from district 2, but I certainly didn't hate it the way my district did. In general, I've always been a pretty laid back person, so little angers me and I suppose the Capitol is no exception.

I wasn't too terrified about being reaped tomorrow. I had a strong feeling that the Capitol was really only gunning for districts 10 and 11. Just after President Lacer's death, all of our shipments to districts 10 and 11 were stopped and I had a feeling that the two events were somehow connected.

As a peacekeeper's child, I did a bit of digging and found out President Lacer, was in fact assassinated, rather than killed due to illness. I'm pretty sure that my mother knows I went through her files, but she hasn't scolded me for it yet, so it's safe to say she trusts me with a lot.

Just as I was about to take a sip of soup, I heard the front door open. My father had returned from the markets with a treat. He had brought some of the exported lemon cake from district 1, one of my mother's favorite desserts. I enjoyed it well, but not as much as my mother did.

Being from a rather well off family meant I we were able to afford things like these. Despite our family's reasonable wealth, we didn't live in a particularity fancy home. In district 5, space is limited for even the wealthy, so like the rest of the district, we live surrounded by industrial factories, barely knowing what the color green looks like.

My father quickly seated himself down at the dinner table and smiled, "This soup smells fantastic, I'm so glad we have such a good cook in the family."

Chuckling my mother agreed, "He just needs to learn how to bake lemon cake."

"Who knows, maybe one day I'll learn," I replied, sipping the rest of my soup.

My mother chuckled again, "You know what, forget learning how to bake lemon cake, just learn how to get a hair cut. How are you to show up to the reapings like that?"

I rolled my eyes, my parents weren't the biggest fan of my current, longer hairstyle, but I liked it. Honestly, I wouldn't mind chopping it all off, but I kinda liked bugging my parents. I loved them to death, but what teenager doesn't enjoy irritating their parents?

"We'll see," I replied with a mischievous grin which meant I wouldn't be cutting my hair anytime soon, "Anyways, reapings are tomorrow, so if you don't mind, I'll be off to bed."

* * *

><p>"Hey, mom," I said as the peacekeeper sitting next to her pricked my finger. She smiled at me as she signed me in for the reapings. Unlike those around me, I was quite calm considering the situation.<p>

A smaller reaping pool meant a higher chance of being reaped and everyone seemed to be freaking out. It was odd how empty the bowls looked, as they were usually stuffed with tessare.

As soon as I found my place with the other three boys my age, the reapings began. Our escort was a tall and blunt man, who seemed to have a permanent smile etched on his face. However, his smile was so stitched on the value of his smile seemed worthless.

After a handful of speeches, our escort headed to the boy's bowl and began sifting around, clearly try to reach for whichever name was placed at the bottom. As he unfolded the white slip of paper, he read the name out with a slight grin, "Joule-Dipole Cooper."

I didn't move, I couldn't. I found myself thinking about dying but I didn't want to die. I slowly found my way up to the stage, only to be greeted by the an extremely fake smile.

"It's JD, by the way..." I muttered softly as I took my place on the stage. The escort nodded at me acknowledging the name I wished to go by.

It wasn't very long before our escort headed to the female bowl, this time choosing the slip on the very top.

Our escort quickly read out the name, smile still plastered on, "Leandra Brite."

A girl with copper hair tried to walk confidently to the stage, but I could tell she was scared out of her wits, and anybody who paid attention could as well. However, I could tell she had earned points for trying.

Our escort stifled an inappropriate chuckle when were both on stage and nodded at us to shake hands.

"So there you go, district five, congrats to JD and Leandra!"

* * *

><p><strong>Laci Lowell, 16, District 8<strong>

"Does this dress make me look fat?" Milan Levi asked me, scrutinizing herself in the floor length mirror, "I want to look good at the reapings...especially with it being a quell and all."

I bit my lip before replying, "Are you kidding me? You look crazy hot! Even prettier then any single Capitolite model out there!" I exclaimed. I might have been slightly exaggerating, but I was a true saleswoman at heart. If there was one thing I knew when it came to selling everything, you never tell the customer the 'exact' truth. After all, the truth really is just a matter of personal perspective. I knew my way around words quite well and that combined with my acting skills...well let's just say I'm a pretty good saleswoman.

Milan instantly perked up at my compliment, "Thanks, Laci! I'll take it."

"Perfect! I'll ring you up as soon as you get dressed," I replied heading towards the register. With that, Milan disappeared into the dressing room. Upon reaching the register desk, I noticed the mail had come in. A few bills for my mother laid on the top, with my issue of _Capitolite Weekly_ underneath all the bills. Flipping open to a random page titled 'Recommendations', I began going through all the suggestions of the week.

Apparently this month purple hair was quite in (turn to page 72), as well as clothing from Lowell Boutique (turn to page 34). Skimming over the page I barely registered that _Capitolite Weekly_ had just featured our boutique, however the moment I realized what I had just read, I had to bite my tongue to prevent myself from squealing. Just a few months ago we had began exporting our clothes to the Capitol due to high demand.

Turning to page 72, Lowell Boutique had a full spread dedicated to high-fashion photographs of our clothing, including one of the dresses I had just designed. All sorts of colors and textures were splattered across the page, everything from emerald greens to neon pinks. I couldn't wait to show my mother. You just didn't get free advertising like this everyday!

Just as I was about to get up to go see if Milan was ready, but my cat, Coco, came up to me purring softly. Working at our large boutique was often quite lonely, so when we found Coco underneath a cardboard box on the way home, we knew she'd be the perfect addition to boutique, especially after my older sister quit.

Although both Coco and my sister, Leia have the whole dark hair, light eyes thing going for them, that's about where their similarities end. Besides being different species, Leia's never been too attached to us, she prefers to be more independent. My mother calls it 'teenageritis', but now that Leia's 19, nearing 20, I'm pretty sure she's not just going through a phase.

Soon, Milan walked up to the counter with the poofy deep teal dress in hand. Placing the dress on the counter, she handed me the amount of money she owed me, "Here you go. Nice lipstick by the way. Is it new from the Capitol? It compliments your skin tone amazingly!"

"Thanks," I replied, handing her the dark, metallic silver tube that I kept in my purse, "It's actually d8 made, I believe it's called 'Scarlet Empress'... or is it 'Dressed to Kill'? I always get those confused...anyways, you want me to write it down for you?" I asked as I packaged her dress then placed it in a cream colored bag, as I scribbled down both names in my long and loopy cursive writing.

I had always had an eye for color and I was never one to shy away from make up. After all, the world is just art waiting to happen, my face is simply another canvas.

Taking the note and the bag containing the dress, Milan walked out, waving. She seemed as if the slightest bit of weight had been lifted off her shoulder's...I suppose that's what last minute reaping dress shopping will do to you. Much to my dismay, the reapings were in less than 24 hours.

I couldn't fathom why the Capitol was punishing us this year. I mean we sell them fashion for heaven's sake! What do they possibly need to prove to us? Everybody in district 8 has an opinion on the games, but oddly enough, most of them don't even have to deal with the games this year. It clearly isn't fair that we are to be punished this year, but as my mother always said, "Life's not fair, but we must deal with it."

Words I'd sworn to live by.

* * *

><p>I sighed as I fell into place with the rest of the 16 year olds. There wasn't too many of us "rich and powerful" kids here in district 8. Most of us were children of large boutique owners (like me) or children of textile factory owners.<p>

Despite the rather depressing mood the reapings had brought upon district 8, I had gotten ton of compliments on the short, flirty burgundy dress I sported that I had designed and sewed myself. If anything, the reapings were more free advertisement for our boutique.

When it came smarts, I've always been more sales inclined rather than book smart. I knew my way around business and I knew how promote and advertise. With a bit of creativity thrown in there, I've always been destined to go down the merchandising route.

As I sat through our escort's long speech about how "wonderful" these year's games were going to be, we finally approached the reapings. My heart pounded as I sucked in my breath as our escort headed towards the female bowl. It was all up to luck now.

She read the slip out slowly, "Laci Lowell."

I let my breath go. I forced a fake confident smile on my face as I headed up to stage, but in all honesty, all I could think about was how I didn't want to die like this.

The escort smiled at me, she clearly appreciated how calmly I reacted and was clearly prepared for far worse. District 8 was known for having some pretty rambunctious reapings. Without any words, she headed over to the male bowl and quickly drew out another name, "Ace Dockett."

The name sounded familiar. I was pretty sure his family owned a clothing factory or something like that...

I quickly found who the name belonged to- a tall 17 year old boy, who practically stumbled getting up to stage. He seemed nervous and looked as if he was about to throw up.

Before I knew it, we shook hands and were ushered off towards our almost certain deaths. Life's certainly not fair, but this time, I might end up dead because of it.

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><p><strong>AN: Hey all! So it's butterfly here, and first off, can I really, truly apologize for the delay and the short chapter! Unfortunately, David will no longer be writing this SYOT with me, and I unexpectedly had to write the second POV as well. So from now on, I'll be the sole author. He's had to deal with some bad IRL stuff and will no longer be able to write with me. However, I have no intention of discontinuing the story and I plan to do my best to keep it going! Hopefully you enjoyed this chapter! Anyways, if you could be ever so kind as to drop a review, what did you think of Laci? of JD?**


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